Chambermaid With Ravens

The Aberdeen bus arrives, deposits and boards the same people daily. One is the dark-haired chambermaid at the tourist lodge, awkward in her print dress and wearing a scowl. Her breasts look soft although her legs are not perfect. The sun dominates the weather this summer and with blackened face I buy a popsicle each day and come closest to distant childhood. This is what the chambermaid notices and scowls about?the popsicle and sneakers of a grown man. On a summer night what passions would I find in her? We take our place in the pattern of daily activity, pick-up trucks with crews arriving and leaving, uniformed rangers narrow in their imaginations. Two ravens fly together over the unit, the ravens are behaving like hawks lately, beautifully. Both my memory and sense of mystery are bowing to knowledge of death. Human society. It takes me along. Our role is not to understand it all. The wheel on this piece of machinery, turning of the night around the stars. Spires of green fir against the sky's blue blue. If man, the monkey, explodes his earth, will my bones then float among the stars? Children and the blue green earth are what the chambermaid and I may share. She and I or another man, me and the naked women of the past. What weather there has been this summer, best since x79. Felling trees in the forest, I look uphill. Two ravens float like hawks, wind, no sound.